Six more exquisite fabrications in the author's familiar self-infatuated cadences. In "Moon Ribbon," the first, a Cinderella type is carried off on a river/ribbon woven from the gray hairs of her dead mother. . . with whom she then exchanges hearts in the form of rubies and crystal. Elsewhere an old couple who fashion a longed-for son of sticks and honey are taught a lesson by the Spirit of the Hive; another old woman who finds a tiny "rosechild" ("though she was neither widow nor wed") learns that what it needs to grow is her own love; just as platitudinously, a young man spends his life seeking "Somewhen"--to illustrate that it's the journey that matters; and the only spunky character--Viga, a sun-fearing prince's bride ("the two talked and kissed far into the night as befits a couple who are but newly wed")--loses him as a result of her iconoclasm. The last story, about a "Moon Child" born into a sun-worshipping society, is a smug and pointless fable of ignorance and persecution. Artificial as we found the elegance of The Girl Who Cried Flowers (1974), this is weaker and sillier.